


Old Lovers in Dressing Rooms

by trixiesmattel



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Angst, F/F, Flashbacks, IQ Kitty X Cherry Bomb Katya in the past, Modern Day, tw: alcohol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 10:29:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14975264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trixiesmattel/pseuds/trixiesmattel
Summary: “I was like some insane mathlete that loved a college party like it was nobody’s business.” She took a moment, her eyes flashing down to where her pink cowboy boots met the dark oak floor of the stage.Trixie usually kept her songs on tour quite light-hearted to not kill the mood in the room. But everything about this city was triggering her memories. Her segue into each track was always fluid – she liked the consistency of it all. But tonight, could she really be blamed for switching it up a little bit?“Boston was the city where I first fell in love.” Her voice trembled slightly, her averted gaze finally scanning across the people standing before her. “…and where I experienced my first heartbreak.”





	Old Lovers in Dressing Rooms

**Author's Note:**

> So, I needed something to break up my thoughts with 'Welcome to Club Katya', and this is the bi-product of that. It's heavily inspired by Keaton Henson's song 'Old Lovers in Dressing Rooms', and also by a few things that have happened in my past IRL. 
> 
> For the flashbacks, envision Trixie as IQ Kitty and Katya with her 'Cherry Bomb' look.
> 
> For modern day, think about their current aesthetics.

The heat from the stage light bore into Trixie’s skin, feeling her pores speckle with sweat amongst the copious layers of makeup. Luckily her thick false eyelashes shielded the majority of the light from filtering directly into her eye-line. Her fingertips meticulously strummed the stainless-steel strings of her electric guitar. She’d only painted her nails a pastel shade of pink a couple of hours ago, but under her performing circumstances, she knew that she’d be applying another coat tomorrow to fill in the cracks. It was just her, the soft white instrument, and the backing music that accompanied her.

The song climaxed on a guitar solo break, where Trixie hit every note so perfectly that the crowd cheered enthusiastically. The sound of their reception alone was enough to land her on cloud nine. She loved nothing more than the fact she brought joy to people just by singing a song on stage – who knew something so simple could be so therapeutic?

“Boston, how are you doin’ tonight?” She called out into the microphone at the end of her stint, the cheers echoing far louder than before. It was a common tactic to get the audience riled up on tour; make it seem as though their city is the most important stop on the road…only this time, it was.

Trixie had attended college at Boston University, so she owed a lot of her personal development to this city. Unbeknownst to most of her fans, she graduated with a Bachelor’s degree in Mathematics and Statistics…an unlikely pairing with her current career. There were countless nights where she’d stay awake into the early hours of the morning to revise, mornings where her talons would be pulling her hair out answering course questions and how could she forget, the years she spent with Katya.

She forced her nostalgia from the confines of her mind, finishing up with the final chorus of her song before heaving a content sigh which was muffled by the audience’s elation. 

“Thank you so much for coming out tonight,” She let one hand free from grasping the neck of her guitar – the instrument still sitting pretty thanks to a strap fastening it to her. After quaffing her golden ‘Dolly Parton-esque’ hair, she smacked her pink lips together.

“You guys, Boston has such a special place in my heart. I went to college here and graduated 5 years ago,” As the words left her mouth, she could have sworn that the whole experience felt like it had just happened yesterday.

“And you’re never going to believe what I studied…” She paused for effect and a couple of people yelled out different arts degrees like ‘musical theatre’ and ‘acting’. “Mathematics, and I majored in statistics.” Her announcement was met with a mixture of laughs and gasps. She definitely didn’t look like the type of girl to take on such a course. In fact, she gave ‘don’t judge a book by its cover’ a whole new meaning. 

“Just imagine, I had cotton candy pink hair and I skipped around campus in a yellow pinafore with a fucking Pi symbol on it.” She shook her head, her memories causing a giggle to boom gently into the microphone. “My party trick was reciting the square root of Pi to 50th decimal. Not to mention, I had these white framed glasses that were far too big for my face. I was a mess.”  
“Show us the receipts!” A fan hollered.

“Bitch no, don’t even try to go looking for those photos, I’ve burnt them all.” Trixie joked, knowing full well that she had multiple albums from disposable cameras she had developed. Just as much as she adored schoolwork, she also loved partying. Those two concepts alone were a rarity for college students, but Trixie happened to be the exception.

“I was like some insane mathlete that loved a college party like it was nobody’s business.” She took a moment, her eyes flashing down to where her pink cowboy boots met the dark oak floor of the stage. 

Trixie usually kept her songs on tour quite light-hearted to not kill the mood in the room. But everything about this city was triggering her memories. Her segue into each track was always fluid – she liked the consistency of it all. But tonight, could she really be blamed for switching it up a little bit?

“Boston was the city where I first fell in love.” Her voice trembled slightly, her averted gaze finally scanning across the people standing before her. “…and where I experienced my first heartbreak.”

“It fucking sucked.” A sympathetic, half-hearted smirk left her lips.

“I wrote a song about it, actually, it’s on my first album. I don’t really play it on tour because I don’t want to be a downer, but these lyrics mean a lot to me.”

She anxiously fiddled with the pick in her left hand. Usually this song was played on an acoustic, so of course it was going to sound a little different, but Trixie didn’t mind that sacrifice.

The first few notes sounded out, distinctly being recognised by some of her biggest fans. 

“And I don’t smell you in my sheets,  
And I don’t hear you in the hall.  
Without your cologne,  
Or calls on the phone,  
I don’t know you at all.”

Trixie could feel the tears threatening to sting her eyes already. She’d grown accustomed to singing this song without getting emotional. The Boston air was evidently getting to her. 

“And I’m growing older,  
I know that we’re over the way we always have been,  
And then I see you,  
And I know you all over again.”

* * *

_Halloween, 2009._

“I’m a girl scout, can’t you see my fucking badges, Max?” Trixie playfully swiped her fist into her friend’s arm, who then yelped out in despair.

“What kind of girl scout wears cowboy boots?” The grey-haired eighteen-year-old retorted, raising her brow. She looked like she’d just stepped out of an old-Hollywood film…then again, that was how she always presented herself to the public. Her false accent never really faltered too much either.

“What kind of Wisconsinite has a British accent?” Trixie bit back, taking a sip from her ambiguous alcoholic drink that she’d mixed for the fourth time tonight. 

Max and Trixie had been friends since the very early years of high school, in the Midwest. Both of them wanted to get out of their town, and move to a big city. They’d stayed up late in the summer of their senior year planning it all out; LA was too vast, and New York was too busy. So, they settled on Boston and made a pact to both apply at Boston University. By dumb luck, they were both accepted.

“Trixie be quiet, I don’t want anyone knowing where we come from.” The slimmer one hissed, taking a drag from her cigarette holder. Trixie finally managed to place her friend’s outfit after a few drinks – Audrey Hepburn in ‘Breakfast at Tiffany’s’. Admittedly, she was too tipsy to even care earlier.

“I’m going to go around and introduce myself as Cowgirl Barbie from the Midwest. Fuck being a girl scout.” She pushed her falling round spectacles back up the bridge of her nose, readjusting them. Max noticed immediately.

“I don’t understand why you didn’t just wear your contacts.”

“Because I’ve been wearing them all day and my eyes are killing me. You try looking at calculus equations for twelve hours with mini pieces of plastic clinging to your eyeballs.” 

Max just rolled her eyes. She had such a keen appreciation for fashion, so it wasn’t a surprise that to her - glamour knew not of comfort.

“What kind of yeehaw Barbie’s do you hang around with, Max?” A wheeze of laughter propelled over the sound of the house party as a girl emerged with teased and crimped black hair that was partially hidden underneath a pointed witches hat.

Max gave the stranger a polite side hug to not mess up either of their outfits. Trixie only huffed at the girl’s comment on her outfit.

“I’m. A. Girl. Scout.” She said through gritted teeth, shoving her sash full of patches into plain view.

“Well in that case, I’d like to buy some cookies.” The other girl teased.  
“You don’t get my cookies if I don’t at least know your name first.” Trixie’s attempts at flirting were clearly spurred by the alcohol plugging through her system. 

“Yekaterina Petrovna Zamolodchikova.” The brunette held out her hand precociously for Trixie to shake, which she in fact did not do.

“I’m too drunk for that to be your name.” She slurred her words momentarily.

“Katya, then. Call me Katya.”

“Well, Katie…I’m going to head back inside.” Just as the girl was putting her hand down by her side, Trixie’s slow reflexes took it into a handshake.

“Katya.” The girl corrected her, her greyish nude lips turning into a grin.

“It was so nice meeting you, Kacey!” Trixie happily downed the rest of her drink, before skipping back towards the house to refill her cup, her pink curls bobbing at her back.

* * *

As the song came to a close, Trixie heard her voice crack with emotion.

“And I don’t call you when I cry,  
And I don’t stay the day in bed.  
Mostly I’m fine.  
Most of the time, I get by like I said.”

She felt the cool release of a tear staining down her cheek, running some of her eyeliner along with it. Everyone in the crowd was silent, but she did her absolute best to keep her composure despite her broken breath.

That’s when she saw a pair of familiar blue green eyes staring up at her with a broken smile. Her lips were painted a cherry red now, and her hair was platinum and cropped just above her shoulders, with bangs.

Despite all of the changes in her appearance, Trixie could recognise her bone structure in a heartbeat.

Katya.

“I haven’t been drinking,  
I haven’t been thinking of lonely “if only”s and then…  
And then I see you,  
And I know you all over again.  
And then I see you,  
And I love you all over again.”

She let her guitar rest lazily against herself, quickly bringing her hands to brush away the tears on her cheeks, probably smudging her makeup even further. The cheers she received now were slightly less extensive, but she spotted a few watery eyes in the first few rows. She couldn’t bear to look back over at Katya, knowing too well that it would only bring on an onslaught of emotions, and she was barely dealing with what she had right now.

“I’m just going to take a quick break to touch up, and get a drink, because god knows I need it. I’ll see you all in a second.”

As the lights went down, Trixie clumsily unhooked her instrument from herself, setting it down on the stand before running straight into the off-stage wing. 

“Pearl, you’re never going to believe who’s here.” Trixie hissed as the blonde woman before she disconnected her headset from the stage. 

Truthfully, this tour wouldn’t have been able to go ahead without her stage manager who was someone she’d known since college as well. 

“Speak of the devil, I have to ask you –”

“Wait, you knew Katya was here?” Trixie had a bad habit of interrupting people, but there was no malice in her intention whatsoever. She was just extremely flustered in this moment. 

“I was checking over the crowd and she recognised me before the show,” Pearl shrugged nonchalantly. “She wants to see you after, and I still need to give her an answer.”

Trixie grabbed a tissue from a nearby table, cleaning up her makeup that she’d have to re-powder in a moment. Her insides were squirming from the eye-contact she’d held with Katya out on the stage. The thought of having to speak to her one-on-one was purely anxiety inducing. They had so much unfinished business in regards to the way their relationship ended.

“No.” Trixie shook her head. 

A stage hand rushed to Trixie’s side with a bottle of water already opened. She took a long sip before walking over towards her dressing room with Pearl in tow.

“Trixie, I really think it would be good for you to see her, considering…”

“Considering what?” The blonde fired back, unexpectedly feeling the tears on her cheeks again.

“You broke up with her via text. No one deserves that.” It was obvious that Pearl was trying to be reasonable, but it was only bringing about Trixie’s regrets even more.

“Yeah, I was a fucking coward, but I didn’t want her to see or hear me cry,” As she entered, she went straight to the makeshift bar, pouring herself a double gin and tonic. If she was going to get through the rest of this performance, it was going to be with help. “Too fucking late for that, huh?”

Pearl stood with her back against the wall, sighing. 

“Please get down from your high horse for just one second, Trix. You owe her this. You owe this to yourself.”

Trixie downed the drink, just like in her college days, and prayed that it would hit her system as quickly as possible. She wasn’t an alcoholic, but this kind of consumption almost seemed medicinal. She remained silent, mulling over the situation. What’s the absolute worst thing that could happen? They both end up crying, yelling and screaming at each other all over again, mimicking the month or so leading up to the demise of their relationship? She’d done it all before, what was one more time?

“…Fine.” She whispered in defeat. “Just give me 10 minutes after the show to touch up, and then you can bring her in.”

* * *

_November, 2009._

“Please turn the music down.” Trixie groaned, wiping the sleep from her eyes as she padded out of her bedroom, clad in a ‘My Little Pony’ oversized t-shirt. Classical music blared from the speakers at an obscene volume. Sliding on her glasses, she noticed she was in the company of not only Max, but a couple of her arts degree friends, including Katya.

Much to her dismay, Trixie was nursing too much of a headache from the Halloween party the night before. The fact that Max, Katya and another one of their friends were smoking cigarettes inside didn’t bother her at all. Heading towards the kitchen, she popped a couple of pain killers from a sleeve of medication, downing them with a glass of water.

“You haven’t even said ‘hello’ to our guests, Trixie.” Max called out. 

Rather than responding, she poured herself a cup of coffee, in her usual white mug that was inscribed with ‘Barbie ain’t no bitch’. She added a spoonful of sugar and some soy milk before bracing herself and heading back to the couch to join the others.

“Katya, right?” Trixie cuddled the mug in between the palms of her hands.

“Oh, I forgot to introduce you to Violet last night as well!” Max pointed at the other dark haired girl sitting beside the both of them. Trixie gave her a small smile before taking another gulp of coffee. 

“So, Tracy, what do you study?” Katya was obviously playing the same game that Trixie had the night prior.

“Mathematics, majoring in stats.” 

“No shit…” Katya was genuinely in awe. “You just don’t really look like the type, is all.”

“I don’t really look like the type for a lot of things, apparently.” She mused, sparking a laugh from Max.

“The number of guys that come up to you when we’re out is insane.” Her friend gushed, shaking her head.

“There’s nothing better than bruising the male ego by telling them you’re a huge dyke.” Slyly, she took another sip from her beverage, smiling against the ceramic of the mug. Katya’s laugh belted out, almost mixing heavily with the fact that she was 18 and already basically developing a smoker’s cough by the sound of it. “What about you two though?” Trixie gestured over to Violet and Katya.

“We’re also both huge dykes.” Katya spoke first, causing Trixie to almost choke on her coffee.

“I meant, what are you studying?” She clarified.

“Oh! Art History.” Katya was blushing now, but Trixie was oddly thankful for that unwarranted piece of information that her new friend had dropped.

“Dance.” Violet took another drag from her cigarette before stubbing it out in the ashtray. All of their studying pathways seemed pretty fitting for them, besides, Trixie loved hanging around Arts students – after all, they threw the best parties.

“Violet and I are actually going to go audition for the musical today, we were just running some lines.” Max justified before getting to her feet, Violet following suit. “Katya you’re more than welcome to stay here.”

And that, she did. 

An hour or so had gone by and Trixie was still in her pyjamas, now sitting on the floor in front of the television with Katya, trying to teach her how to play video games. It was always a good way of keeping guests amused.

“I don’t understand how you don’t fall off Rainbow Road.” The brunette complained with a groan, throwing her controller down on the couch in a frustrated manner as the game came to a halt.

“I’m just naturally talented.” Playfully, she flipped her pink hair back, glancing behind her at the girl who had now face planted against the cushions. She tried to not stare at the fact her fishnet style dress had ridden up her legs.

They were silent except for the Mario Kart music playing in the background, and Trixie scooted closer to the couch, her the skin on her knees protesting against the rug. She knelt against the sofa, crossing her arms across the plush seat and resting her chin on top so that her faces was inches from Katya’s.

“I’ve been grappling with something, and I need a second opinion.” Trixie admitted, and it was only now that she noticed Katya’s eyes were in between a blue and a green. Her whites slightly splintered from her smoking habit and the long night without sleep.

“Shoot.” She pushed her dark hair away from her face, getting a better view of Trixie. 

“Hypothetically speaking, let’s just say you have a very strained relationship with your parents, and you come from a ‘not-so-great’ home. Would you go home for Thanksgiving?” Her face softened, sincerely confused as to whether or not she should leave Boston for the small break at the end of term.

“I would.” Katya replied, with a small nod.

“Okay.” Trixie gave copied her gesture. “Hypothetically speaking again…what if the reason why your parents neglected you was because you showed lesbian tendencies during high school, and were verbally abused by your step-father because of it. Would you then still go home?”

“No, not if it’s not safe.”

Katya was right. Trixie exhaled obnoxiously into the girl’s face, moving her head so that now her forehead was resting upon her arms. She felt movement on the couch beneath her, before her friend’s fingertips ran comfortingly through her cotton candy strands.

“You could come and spend Thanksgiving with my family if you don’t want to be alone.” 

They’d met each other not even twenty-four hours ago and already, Katya was being far too hospitable for her own good. Trixie hated the holidays; hated the fact that she would be forced to be in a room with her step-father. Her brother and sister were fine, in fact, she still felt sorry for her younger sibling for being stuck at home. Her brother had enlisted in the defence force as soon as he turned 18, just to get away from the environment they felt trapped in.

“I’d like that.” Trixie mumbled feebly. The thought of being with another family was strangely comforting. Besides, Katya had nearly a month to start bringing up Trixie in conversation with her parents. “Is Thanksgiving on a Thursday this year?”

There was a beat of silence, as Katya wasn’t really sure if this girl was kidding or not. Trixie furrowed her brow in confusion, finally meeting her gaze once more.

“It always is!” Katya screeched with laughter. “I don’t understand, Trixie, how are you so smart, and yet…you don’t know what day Thanksgiving falls on.”

* * *

_The day before Thanksgiving, 2009._

“And you’re sure they’re okay with this?” Trixie hoisted her pink duffle bag over her shoulder as they approached the front door of the two-storey home. The suburbs on the outskirts of Boston were beautiful – like a completely different state all together. She was appreciative of the tree change. 

“I promise, Trix.” Before knocking on the door, Katya turned to face Trixie, taking her left hand with her right one. She dipped her head and brushed her lips along her knuckles, giving her skin a gentle and assuring squeeze. “Deep breath.”

In the span of three or so weeks, Trixie had come to learn so much about the girl before her; things that she didn’t really care to know about anyone else. The simple gesture had caused Katya’s usual cool-tone lipstick to smudge. Trixie leaned in, swiping the corner of her thumb against the edge of her lip to clean it up.

“I’m ready.” Trixie nodded and Katya rapped her knuckles against the door. She could hear excited yelling coming from inside, from both Katya’s mother and father. It would have been the complete polar opposite reception if she’d gone back to Milwaukee for the break.

Her heart was thrumming in her chest, and her stomach was twisting with butterflies as the door opened and they were greeted by a woman who was much shorter in stature than Katya.

“Yekaterina!” 

“Privyet, mama.” Katya stepped forward, her mother encircling her in the tightest hug that Trixie had ever witnessed. 

“You still remember your Russian.” The woman said proudly, her Boston accent now strongly shining through. Pulling back, the older woman placed her hands upon Katya’s slender cheekbones. Trixie felt a twang of pain in her chest knowing that she would probably never get such a greeting from her own parents.

“I’ve only been away for a couple of months.” Katya reminded her before stepping aside. “Mama, this is Trixie Mattel. Trixie, this is my mom, Petenka.” 

“It’s lovely to meet you, Mrs Zamolodchikova.” Trixie pronounced the surname perfectly, after rehearsing it for so many weeks now. 

“Please, just call me Pat.” The woman had let go of Katya completely, acknowledging Trixie in a warm embrace which she gladly returned.

Upon release, Trixie was then invited inside and introduced to Katya’s father, Grigory. They bonded over a dinner of spaghetti bolognaise – not exactly a Russian custom, but it worked nonetheless. This was the kind of home that Trixie longed to have, along with her siblings. Deep down, of course she loved her family, but there was only so much she could mentally take.

“I’m sorry that we don’t have a spare room.” Katya noted, pulling a sleeping bag out from her closet.  
“What are you doing?” Trixie opposed, running a brush through her hair as she prepped herself ready for bed. “Do I smell bad or something?”

“Hm?” Katya was slightly flustered, trying to pull the synthetic material from its pouch and ultimately making a mess of it all.

“Sleep with me.” Trixie leaned over, patting the other side of the double bed.

Obviously, by the blush on Katya’s cheeks, she’d caught the wrong end of that innuendo. 

“I – I mean,” Trixie shook her head with a gulp. “I mean, you can sleep in the same bed as me, if you want. I don’t bite.”

“Ugh, I wish you would.” Katya smirked, shoving the sleeping bag back into her closet and shutting the door forcefully. She made her way to the bed, climbing under the covers in her white tank top and plaid boxer shorts.

“Shut up.” Trixie couldn’t help but laugh as she poured some lotion on to her hands, massaging it into her skin that had now been roughed up by the cooler weather. She followed Katya’s lead, clambering between the sheets before the brunette reached over, turning off the lamp on the nightstand.

A cool light filtered into the room through the window to Trixie’s right. It was a peaceful kind of silence. She’d barely settled in, yet she felt at home. She was able to talk to Katya’s parents freely, as if she’d almost grown up with them living next door. Being a guest in a household where the parents were still so in love still after so many years seemed like something out of a dream to her.

“They really like you,” Katya whispered, turning to face Trixie against the pillow. Trixie did the same – her hair sprawling out comfortably behind her. 

“You’re so lucky to have them.” She kept her tone just as quiet, careful not to wake the others in the next room. 

Trixie withheld so much sadness deep down. There was a lot of resentment for her childhood and she did her absolute most to bury it deep down every morning when she woke up. What would be the point in mulling it over every day? 

“I’m just as lucky to have you.” Katya swallowed hard, her eyes flicking between Trixie’s hazel brown hues and her plush lips.

Trixie let the compliment hang in the air a little longer as Katya readjusted herself so that she was now resting her weight on her elbow, her hands freeing her face from her dark, long curls. Trixie’s fingertips found the girl’s bicep, ghosting her skin over Katya’s.

“Kat...” Trixie’s breathing hitched slightly, the faint glow of the luminosity painting her friend’s face in the most beautiful glow.

“Yeah?”

“Will you kiss me?” This was something that she’d wanted since she first met Katya a month ago on Halloween, despite being under the influence, and the fact that the woman wore a stupid hat to complete her costume. It hadn’t take much time for Trixie to feel as though she’d completely gotten lost in her, in the most enticing way.

Katya only replied with a small, barely noticeable nod. As the inches closed in, Katya’s musky sandalwood perfume engulfed her senses. Katya’s hand cradled Trixie’s soft cheek, her thumb running back and forth against her supple skin. 

Trixie admittedly met her lips halfway, too eager to fill the space between them. Katya’s lips tasted of the spearmint toothpaste she’d used only minutes ago. Their movements were cautious at first, not wanting to rush it. But the moment that Katya’s tongue begged against her lower lip, it elicited a faint moan from her as she receptively opened her mouth. 

The kiss moved in perfect unison, each movement now driven by pure desire. Trixie scooted closer, fully closing the proximity of their bodies as much as possible. She wanted to be completely surrounded by a haze of Katya.

From the outset, the two of them looked like complete opposites. Katya was your typical alternative goth girl who blared Alanis Morrissette songs, singing along at the top of her lungs. She was unpolished with ripped fishnets, and lipstick that drew the majority of colour from her face. 

Trixie was a bubble-gum pink princess who had a proclivity for difficult maths problems, and collecting old Pokemon cards alongside vintage Barbie dolls. She was always thirsty for a good party, regardless of if she had class the next morning. Trixie was a ‘good girl’ in every sense of the phrase – she obeyed the rules whenever they were set, but Katya made every effort to break them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know how you feel about this kind of story!  
> Also, find me on Tumblr @iqkittygirl.


End file.
